


One more day

by GrantaireandHisBottle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, Suicidal Thoughts, talking to "dead" Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrantaireandHisBottle/pseuds/GrantaireandHisBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him."</p><p>That was the last thing that I'd posted in my blog. No more stories, no more annoyed comments from you, sitting on the other side of the room. No more adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more day

**Author's Note:**

> So it has been a month after Sherlock's fall. John is talking to Sherlock. I've written it quiet a long time ago, it was published on my dA page, but I've decided to post it here too. Maybe because I can't wait to see the season 3 of Sherlock. gah.
> 
> "The third star" which mentions John is a BBC drama with Benedict Cumberbatch about a cancer man who went with his friends to his favorite place on Earth. If You haven't watched it, then DO IT RIGHT NOW. Oh, and the name of the story is from the Les Misrables musical. 
> 
> Also, sorry my Engilsh. It is still my second language

18th July

"He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him."

That was the last thing that I'd posted in my blog. No more stories, no more annoyed comments from you, sitting on the other side of the room. No more adventures.

I don't know why I'm writing this. This is not going to be posted, but I just…need this. You'd call me an idiot, but it's like a talk. A talk with you, Sherlock.

Yesterday I was lying in the hotel room…Yes, I live in the hotel, because…Because it's too painful for me to be…There, on 221B. But yesterday at night I suddenly remember that Mrs. Hudson was going to give all of your equipment to a school. But I thought it was a bad idea. I jumped up from the bad and called her, waking her obvio…Obviously up. Her voice sounded as always cheerful and kind. I asked her not to do that with your tubes and microscopes. And do you know what? She didn't ask me why. She is an amazing lady and I know you like her too. Remember how brave she acted when she was hiding that Adler's phone? She was under tortures, but kept your secret. God bless this old lady.

And now I am thinking about moving back…At first I thought it would be batter to escape from that place and never come back. I thought everything would change when time passed, but…Here, in this hotel, I feel myself even more dreadful. The same feeling I had before we met. And it's back again, like the nightmare or…Oh, God I just imagine your face if you could hear me…And I nearly laugh…

So tomorrow I'm moving back. Back to 221B Baker Street. The only one place in the world where I was happy. And…

Mycroft's sent me money, a lot of money. I've refused them, but he…He is Mycroft after all and nothing can stop him. He once noticed about Christmas dinners. I'd very like to see one of them. AND NOW THANKS TO YOU I'D NEVER…never…

When I come back to Baker Street, I am planning not to remove anything. I'll put all of your mess back on its proper places. Do you know why? I am still waiting for a miracle.

Oh, and one more thing, Sher…Sherlock. Some days ago I watched a film. "The third star" it was called. Dammit, the main hero looked just like you. And the ending…

"So I raise a morphine toast to all of you. Remember that you were loved by me and you made my life a happy one. And there is no tragedy in that."

I am going to talk with you like this. Somehow this helps. Goodnight, Sherlock. 

~~~~

 

 

20th July

Have you ever counted how much steps are here on 221B? Maybe you…No you definitely have. You are Sherlock Holmes after all, you know everything.

When I've enter our living room today at the morning I…Thanks to Mrs.Hudson I am okay now.

Okay? How can I be okay? No, you don't know everything. You don't know anything at all. Anything about pain. The pain you have caused. You can't even imagine, Sherlock, how…

Right now I am sitting on my armchair just in front of yours. And I put skull on your armchair, don't you mind? It listens me at least …

My tremor is back. I dropped my cup, because of it. And my leg hurts again.

Yesterday I met Lestrade and we went out to drink some coffee. He told me that all the Scotland Yard had gone mad. They found that file about Moriarty being an actor. He asked me if I believed that Moriarty was Brooke. And I was really glad that just my one look was enough for him to understand what I think about that maniac.

Good old Lestrade. You should hear what he said about Donavan and Anderson. It's seems to me that Lestrade is the only one person in the police who believes in you. And I am so thankful.

I've been searching for my gun today and suddenly found a Christmas garland lying behind your table. This suddenly reminds me our last Christmas when you shouted at a Father Christmas that you was bored and wanted a nice juicy murder for Christmas - in front of a bunch of kids and their parents.

I smiled. After all of what have happened to me Sherlock, I still can smile. I have never thought that smiling is so a difficult process.

It's Mrs. Hudson's birthday in a week. Have you any ideas what to buy her as a present? Maybe a jumper. Don't make that face; I know she'd like it. A purple one. Oh and she sad me yesterday that she'd been always our housekeeper. We'd convinced her to be.

Let's go to that Chinese restaurant. I am not hungry, but want to walk out. 

Tomorrow I am planning to go your…No, it's not your gr…einvprybveyfdin. Grave. You are here. Sitting and listening me. Aren't you?

Haven't I told you that I miss you?

And my gun looks very needful now. Only one shot. Just to stop the pain.

But I'll wait. Wait for a miracle, Sherlock. For my miracle.

I am not sure how long I can wait.

Come on, let's have dinner.   
~~~~

 

"Stop it, Mycroft. Just stop."

"I can't. And you know this, Brother dearest."

"I've never asked you for help. Only this one. Can you help me?"

"No."

"…Haven't your…YOUR BLOODY SURVEILLANCE SHOW YOU THAT JOHN IS SUFFERING??? He is talking with me. With me, who is supposed to be dead."

"We both know that it is the best situation for him and for you too."

"He is thinking about the suicide. John wants to kill HIMSELF, CAN'T YOU SEE THIS???"

"Sherlock, stop shouting like a child and behave yourself like a grown up at last."

"Mycroft if y…"

"Hush. Do you think I will allow John's death? After what I did to you? We belong to one side, Brother, remember that."

"I've never thought it would last for that long."

"You can't go to John right now. Think about the risk. All my work will be broken. And innocent people, your friends will die."

"Then…One message, Mycroft. Three words. Just to calm him down."

"Your message won't calm him, it'll turn things up even worth. And you know this perfectly."

"How. Can. You. Be. THAT STYPID??? he is going to kill himself. He doesn't have a hope. What was my death for if I can't save my friend? If this makes him pain."

"The promise of love. The pain of loss. The joy of redemption. And now I can not give you a puzzle and watch you dance. Are you really so obvious? Sherlock? If you do this, it'll lead to a catastrophe. One message which will make John panic and he will start searching you. One message and months and years of planning – will be finished. Jim Moriarty is dead, but the web is still here, entangled around the city. All of Moriarty's band will make a reaction with already known consequences. You must go out of the country. We will wait until one of them; Sebastian Moran more likely makes a mistake… Are you listening me?"

"If I can do nothing, if I can't see or at least write John, then I want to disappear from England immediately. I can't be here anymore. Send me anywhere you like."

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the loosing side. Just remember you said that once."

"Promise me, Mycroft, promise on your life that you will care about John Watson."

"Like you are not going to continue watching him via my cameras on Baker Street."

"I said promise me."

"…Yes, you have my word."

"…Thank you."

"Sherlock, wait. Take the cigarette."

"Without any filters? Why so kindly?"

"Because you are in Love."   
~~~~

 

I don't know how much time has past. I don't live, I exist. Breathe, sleep, walk. No suddenness, no changes, no adventures.

And no hope.

A hope for hopeless. I found that song in the Internet long time ago, before we met. Then I thought about the stupidity of its title. Don't think the same right now. 

Sherlock, I can't. I don't see the way out. I can't solve this problem.

So I decided to do the last possible thing. Is it a right decision or a wrong one, I don't care. Life goes, but I can't. I try to, but I am failing.

I think it's time to go to sleep... "Just a little longer" I say myself this every time, but now. I know it's definitely the right moment. One little piece of metal in my body. And the end.

Goodbye, Sherlock. Be sure, I believe in you every single second.

BANG.

 

 

"John. John, please open your eyes. It's me"

"You are dead."

"Everybody dies."

"Then you must be my hallucination. At first I was happy to see you at least in my dreams. But they always end the same. You left me. So you are going to do this again."

"No, I am not. Open your eyes."

"I've killed myself. I've pulled the trigger."

"Do you think I would allow my blogger to kill himself?"

"So I am not dead?"

"No. Open your eyes."

"I am afraid. I don't want you to disappear when I do that."

"I won't, John. I missed you. Oh, God how I missed you."

"Stop this. You can't be real. I've been waiting for you. You've never come. You left me. Alone."

"But you are with me now."

"How can I trust my hallucination?"

"…Punch me in the face. You will see that I am real."

"Then, I am going to lose my grasp on what's real and what is a dream."

"Don't you want to wake up and see the day light? You've been in darkness too long. Come one, take my hand."

 

"Your hand's warm. And soft. And I can feel the fabric of your coat. Of your scarf."

"Open your eyes, John. It's me."

"You won't leave me?"

"Never. I promise."

Dark curls, covered with dust, cheekbones and sharp chin with almost invisible bristle on it, dark skin under eyes with sparkles deep inside them, like the fire in the distance. And lips. Smiling. Eyes caring, hands holding, the body, the soul, the mind. The heart which is not going to leave.

"…real… Real Sherlock."

"Yours."


End file.
